No mans land saturated in rivers of blood.
Trying to stay alive trekking through the mud.
Gangrene, blinded, deafened, shell shock- gifts from the trenches.
Trench walls, sandbags, barbed wire- surrounded.
Your best friend lay at your feet- rotting, rats surrounding, he couldn’t escape.
Others at home unaware of their loss yet sending his brother to join at a cost.
When will this war end?- 1918- The year I lost my best friend